


Piano

by Polarbaroness (MaryTheMango)



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: F/M, Kinda, Song fic, look this is self indulgent shit I wrote when I was homesick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 00:47:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15570054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaryTheMango/pseuds/Polarbaroness
Summary: The Deputy likes to play the piano, when she's not being chased by crazed cultists and Blissed out wolverines.





	Piano

She plays the piano, almost constantly, over the radio.

She doesn’t really know what she hopes to accomplish with it- really, it’s all just fun to her, letting her fingers dance across the ivory and create sound.

It grounds her. She never wanted to kill, to fight- hell, she hadn’t even wanted to become a cop. She’d planned her whole life on going to Julliard, becoming a musician- fame wasn’t even part of it. She’d’ve been fine just playing for an orchestra.

After her parents had died and her uncle had taken her in, she’d been pigeonholed into a job she didn’t really want, loathe to disappoint the man who basically raised her. It wasn’t terrible, when she wasn’t fighting cultists and getting shot at- she’d mostly done traffic work at her previous precinct, maybe the occasional high speed chase, but nothing exciting.

Then she’d gotten thrown into this mess, and she figured if she died along the way at least she’d die with some sort of lasting effect. Maybe someone’d remember her as a piano player instead of a murderer.

She tried to keep it light, whenever she did manage to sneak into the abandoned recording studio and lay her fingers on the dusty Yamaha. It was no Steinway, but she was in no position to be picky.

Today was a wistful sort of day, she figured. Something longing, beautiful, something to ease the heartache inside of her. A minor key, not quite as sad as F minor, but something to pull at her heartstrings. She dug around for some sheet music, choosing an appropriately sad song, and started setting up.

She never spoke when she started up the radio, merely flipping it on and playing. Today was no different- a clear of her throat and a crack of the fingers and she was off.

Usually no one interrupted her broadcasts- she usually took a few minutes break between songs, and occasionally someone would tune in and thank her, or make a request, but today would be different, it seemed.

She’d just finished her third song when a voice crackled over the radio attached to her hip.

“My,my, such sad songs today. In a mood, are we? Something you need to confess?”

Ah, John. The thorn in her side, Herald of Holland Valley, the man who thought she was Wrath. Personally, she thought her biggest sin was Sloth- failure to act, to stick up for herself. She wasn’t a particularly angry person, not that she'd tell him that. She got the feeling he wouldn't appreciate being wrong, and he'd pay her back with more pain.

He probably didn’t know who she was, and she preferred it that way. She had a feeling he had a bit of an…obsession, and if it weren’t for her beloved broadcasting station, she’d be in the Henbane, avoiding him.

She pointedly said nothing, which he took as an invitation to continue.

“Now, no need to be shy, you can talk to me. I promise. It’s very freeing, getting things off your chest. ”

Rook sighed, flipping through the music aimlessly before she landed on something familiar. It even had lyrics. She hadn’t sung in a while, and surely her singing voice was different enough from her speaking voice to keep her anonymous…Besides, he hadn’t heard her say anything apart from “yes”, she doubted he could get anything from that.

“Almost heaven, West Virginia,” she started, pressing the keys gently and wincing when her voice cracked.

“Blue Ridge Mountains, Shenandoah River

Life is old there, older than the trees

Younger than the mountains, blowing like a breeze,”

She took a breath here, almost steeling herself before continuing,

“Country roads, take me home

To the place I belong

West Virginia, mountain mama

Take me home, country roads,”

Her voice grew heavy with emotions and she coughed, clearing them out to continue.

“All my memories gather round her

Miner’s lady, stranger to blue water

Dark and dusty, painted on the sky

Misty taste of moonshine, teardrop in my eye,”

She could almost see it, the sunset over the mountain range she called home, could almost taste the homemade moonshine her uncle always tricked her into trying. Rook bit her lip before she continued to the chorus, drawing in a deep breath before belting it out.

“Country roads, take me home

To the place I belong

West Virginia, mountain mama

Take me home, country roads..”

She played a little extra ditty in the middle, allowing herself time to catch her breath before she continued.

“I hear her voice, in the morning hour she calls me

The radio reminds me of my home far away

And driving down the road I get a feeling

That I should have been home yesterday, yesterday..”

Fuck, she missed it. Missed apple picking in the fall, riding through the woods on whatever horse would take her, frosty mornings and gentle sunsets. She just wanted to go home. As she hit the final stretch, she put in a little crescendo, almost shouting over her own playing.

“Country roads, take me home

To the place I belong

West Virginia, mountain mama

Take me home, country roads

Country roads, take me home

To the place I belong

West Virginia, mountain mama

Take me home, country roads

Take me home, down country roads

Take me home, down country roads..”

Finally she finished, the song’s last breaths dampened by the specialized room she sat in. It was almost peaceful, until she heard clapping.

It wouldn’t have been a big deal if it came from over the radio- it would’ve been welcomed, even. She was a sucker for praise, almost craved it.

But no, the clapping was slow, and came from behind her, through the door opened to the rest of the studio. She could feel her heart drop into her stomach, a pit of dread. She should’ve figured, she chastised herself. It’s not like a broadcasting station is exactly hard to find, and John’s not a stupid man.

If only she hadn’t been distracted by what could’ve-

Rook shook her head and took an inventory of her possessions. Her bag was in the corner- if she lunged, she might be able to get it in time. She had her knife, of course, but she suspected she wouldn’t be the winner in a knife fight with John Seed.

Out of options, she turned shakily around on the bench to face him.

He was leaning against the doorway, blocking her only exit, head tilted as he stared at her like a cat watching a particularly interesting bird. He still had bloodstains on his clothes, she noted, probably from an Atonement or something. They kinda worked, she thought wryly. Murder chic.

He smiled as she made eye contact, raising one perfectly manicured eyebrow. Why the fuck did he get to be so pretty, even covered with blood? It wasn’t fair.

“Deputy,” he greeted, almost caressing the words as they left his mouth. (She wouldn’t think of his mouth, absofuckinglutely not. Nope.)

“John,” she returned, wincing as her voice wavered. There was no way he hadn’t heard that. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“I didn’t know you played!” He chuckled, “All this time, I’ve been listening to you on the radio. what else are you hiding, Deputy? What other secrets can I pull out of you?”

John stepped closer and continued. “Had I known it was you, I would’ve come by earlier.”

Her hand twitched towards her knife but she steadied herself, taking a fortifying breath. “Why did you come?” She finally managed, “Not a big fan of John Denver? Wanted to make a request? Could’ve just radioed me, didn’t need to go out of your way.”

Blue eyes twinkled at her in the dim light, a glimmer of teeth in his smile.

“I was just so worried..My favorite pianist, playing sad songs, I had to see what was going on,” he stepped closer, closing and bolting the door behind him, “Tell me…what’s troubling you?”

He looked almost concerned, she noticed. Not that she could trust his stupid sexy face- he wore masks like it was Halloween to get what he wanted.

Rook examined him, then the room, warily before sighing and leaning against the piano key s with a discordant twang.

“Look, I’m not in the mood for being tattooed and carved up today.. I’m tired, I just want to play the piano, maybe sleep through the night without waking up.”

Before she could continue, he spoke up. “No, no, of course not. That will come later. For now, consider this a confession.”

“Thought you were a lawyer, not a priest, John,” she teased. When she got no response she sighed. “Fine, I’ll talk. But,” Rook raised a finger, “Ya gotta promise to let me go home tonight. MY home. No fancy lawyer loopholes.”

He smirked at her, a hand fluttering over his heart as if she’d shot him. “Why Deputy, you wound me… You have my word, for all it’s worth to you.”

She considered him for a moment- he painted quite the picture, sleeves rolled up, weight on his left foot, staring at her intensely.

“Fine. Just…in my pack, there’s a mat. Spread it out and we can sit and Kumbaya or whatever.”

He actually laughed at that, following her instructions before sitting cross legged on the worn quilt. She followed soon after, leaning against the bench.

Rook was quiet for a moment before she started. “I’m not a violent person. Hate it, hate bloodshed. I know it’s in the job description, but it’s a job I never wanted. I-” She chuckled, pausing.

“ I was gonna go to Julliard. Live outta my truck, if I had to. My uncle threatened to disown me if I didn’t become a cop, and I was too spineless to call him on it, risk losing the only family I had. Thought I’d just do speeding tickets for the rest of my life, which-” she motioned grandly around her, bitter smile fixed firmly across her lips,“Is most certainly the least heinous activity in this stupid county.”

Rook wiped her eyes clear of any suspicious moisture before she continued. “People are shooting at me, no intention of stopping til one of us is dead, I can’t even take a shit without a request for help…I just wanna lock myself in one of the numerous bunkers strewn around this county and.. be alone. ”

There was a long silence before John softly asked,“ Why don’t you?”

She tossed her head back, letting it sink into the bench’s soft padding. Rook knew she was exposing her weaknesses, a gazelle baring her throat to a lion, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Hope county was as good a place to die as any.

“I made an oath to protect and serve. Nothing worse than an oath breaker, specially with lives on the line. Plus, the townsfolk really do grow on you. They deserve.. anything but this violence.”

He sighed, leaning towards her. “If they didn’t fight us- if they joined peacefully- there wouldn’t be any. We are simply trying to save them, save as many souls as possible. ”

Without looking up, she responded with a sharp “Nope,” and continued before he could get indignant. “So many people in this county are already prepped for the apocalypse. This is probably the bunker capital of the world. If you were interested in saving them, you’d be working with them, not stealing supplies and murdering people.”

Rook finally lifted her head, locking eyes. “From what I know about y'all, you have the resources to hole up right now. You’ve got everything you need. Why take from others?”

“The soul,” he started, “must be saved-”

“Then do it after your collapse or whatever! There’s plenty of radios, and you say it’ll take seven years for everything to be cool? Plenty of time to proselytize. It’s a win-win, really. People stop fighting, you stop losing people, I get to go home and play my piano.”

He seemed thrown off his stride for a second, but quickly recovered.

“No, the Father’s instructions, or the Gates won't be opened. We have to do it like this. It’s the only way.”

He sounded desperate- desperate for her to understand, or trying to convince himself, she wondered. Either way..

She sighed, returning her head to its rest.

“Whatever, John. I ain’t gonna argue anymore. ’M tired of it. ”

He sighed but acquiesced,and they sat in silence for a few moments.

“So,” she said, then paused, standing just to sit on the bench again.

“I’ve still got some songs left in me. Any requests?”

**Author's Note:**

> I don't feel too good about this but I'm procrastinating writing other fics so I figured I'd pretend to be productive.


End file.
